is not out of anger or despair. No. There is no revenge in what I do. I do not know who to direct it. Not that my life has always run away serene and mild. I'm not saying that. But I can not complain, great suffering have not crossed my horizons. I have not experienced intense pain, the ones that shake the soul, the ones I saw in the eyes of some friends, then friends, too rich and noble word to describe the knowledge that I flowed around. I had no friends here. I did not know what friendship meant, because I was not allowed to suffer. not have done it for cruelty, far from it. Did not think that me and my happiness, I am sure of this. Have not found that depriving them of the suffering, I was being deprived of life itself. do not blame him, I think, if anything, I could only recognize an excess of love, but love crude, superficial, deep as it may have been imperfect. I can not explain: As I have written that the love that I was facing is defined as deep and shallow at the same time? I can not find the exact words, because it is actually true: deep red, like a saxophone sound that surrounds a dense, smoky atmosphere, but not dirty and greasy, so intense, breathtaking, intense up to oppression, greedy ; surface, light green, bright as a clarinet, a bit 'out of tune, trilling without rhythm, oversized, more for pleasure than for him to agree to the symphony. I do not understand how it could have happened, but now that, while walk on this beach seems endless, deserted to the low light of dawn, now that the first order not to put my thoughts, I always kept everyone in their folded and scented drawer, but the memories that I chased I like swarms of bees and they escaped, to protect what I wanted to tell me now that I reflect with logic and method, now that I analyze, separating the emotions from their meaning, now that I understand what this love was in fact as it has changed my life, who has actually been addressed, now I want to cry, and keep walking.
I have only known the mediocrity here. I did not know a real love. They did not like me, but they themselves in me. They do not represent a projection of their love, a subject that reflected that sense, evidently unsatisfied until that point, a deep love. They did not try me, but they themselves, in the reflection of my life, my life in the mirror that made them. They did not want to suffer the pain and I have stolen. They did not want misery and I was deprived of my happiness. Did not seek a daughter, wanted a natural extension to their selfishness, which, paradoxically, converged and coagulated in quell'esserino misuscolo and helpless that I was.
I am not entirely honest to say that, even at the very thought. I could never accuse them without having been heard. But I can not go back. Not I want to. I do not want to listen to their defense, it could be a failure. Not for them for me. I could not bear to hear confirmed by their words, their eyes, their gestures, my most harrowing suspicions. I just have to walk without looking back, not expecting anything until I find the hope here on the sand, somehow, some gesture, some object, and realize that yes, here's a new beginning .
Yes, I can start over and maybe then I can also go back. Yes, I know I'm doing them wrong, I'm making them suffer, perhaps a pain that have not yet tried. Yes, I know, and I know that I'm trying for the first time this pain, now light and distant, like a siren in the distance like a ship on the horizon, but which moves forward and expands and becomes more acute, pale purple, as the cutting edge of a suppurating: I have no fear, even appearance. Yes, the look because that is what I need, we need to get out of the fiction of a seemingly perfect life, and well off, dull, faded, warm, fuzzy, like a drawing done in chalk on the pavement, which is slowly Rain washed away by a cheerful and bright.
Yes, I can return one day, when I arrived at the bottom of my way and I find that I do not know myself yet and I'm afraid to know when I'll be put to the test and I hardened my suffering, come back and love like I never loved.
Because then I open my arms and squeeze them all in a new and true love.
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